


Home is Just a Room (Full of My Safest Sounds)

by dracoismytrashson (JGogoboots)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Quidditch, messing around on the quidditch pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGogoboots/pseuds/dracoismytrashson
Summary: It's 8th year, and Draco Malfoy can't sleep. He decides to try flying on the Quidditch pitch to cure his insomnia, but it looks like someone else got there first. Or: The One Where Flying at Night Brings Harry and Draco Closer Together.





	Home is Just a Room (Full of My Safest Sounds)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matsinko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsinko/gifts).



> Thank you to C for beta-ing and assuring me this wasn't horrible haha. 
> 
> Lovely giftee/prompter: I hope you like where I went with this! The title is taken from Troye Sivan's "Talk Me Down." I saw you listed him on your music likes (which I 100% agree with; he's too amazing for words!), and I thought those lyrics kind of summed up Draco in this fic. He has to rebuild the concept of home for himself (obviously partly finding that in Harry), and I imagine that being the way he would describe the idea. :)

Draco hadn’t been on a broom since that fateful night when Harry Potter rescued him from the orange tongues of the Fiendfyre. Before that, flying had always been a symbol of freedom for him, dancing across the skies in a way that seemed like it should be impossible, wind whipping through his hair and chapping his delicate cheeks. Even now, the first time he’d ridden a broom was a memory he cherished. He recalled how the polished wood had felt beneath his small fingers, the way his heart had soared when his little legs had properly kicked off, the weightless sensation making butterflies dash around in his stomach.    

Draco sighed as he sat down on the Quidditch pitch, his old broom laying across his lap, bits of dust gathered in the bristles from disuse and the sheen of the wood dulled from lack of upkeep. He clamped his hand around the cylindrical middle of it to stop the trembling in his fingers. This was a stupid idea. He didn’t know why he’d thought this would help his insomnia. Considering that some of his nightmares contained that very scene, the heat of flames surrounding him like walls closing in, threatening to crush and consume him into ash and nothingness, choosing now to rediscover the joys of flying perhaps wasn’t the wisest. But something about the escapism of it, the ability to just  _ take off  _ and leave behind whatever was troubling him on the ground, was still appealing. He was curious if it was something that could be rekindled, replacing the memories of sweat and racing heartbeats with happiness.

“All right, Draco. You came out here to fly. Now get on that bloody broom and get in the air,” He scolded himself, pushing off the ground with the palms of his hands, wiping them across the front of his trousers as he stood up. 

_ Don’t soil your clothes. They’re bespoke, for Merlin’s sake. Have some decorum, Draco. _

Draco shook his head as if to clear it of his father’s influence. He detested those moments, his thoughts parroting the words of his father as if Draco had no control over his own mind. For an extra defiant measure, Draco vigorously ran his hands down the sides of his trousers. He felt marginally idiotic. It wasn’t like Lucius could see him doing it, but somehow it made him feel better to fight against the voice in his head. Even if it was something as small as getting a little dirt on his clothes.

He straddled the broom and took a deep breath, but just as he was about to kick off, he saw movement a few yards ahead. Draco squinted and made out the outline of another person carrying a broom. Trying to get a better look, he took a couple steps in the direction of whoever it was. There was a glint of moonlight off a pair of round spectacles, and Draco halted his approach. Of course. Harry sodding Potter  _ would  _ be out here. Draco cursed the universe for its cruel sense of irony and tried to contain the urge to utter all manner of biting, sarcastic things as Harry waved cordially, picking up his pace as he approached.

“Hey, Malfoy. What’re you doing out here this late?” Harry’s hair was even more disheveled than usual, no doubt mussed from fitful sleep if his bloodshot eyes were any indication. Draco looked at his casual Muggle attire and fought the itch to sneer. Every day was an endless exercise in shunning all the compulsions Draco had been slowly conditioned to accept as natural over the course of his young life. Now that he was untethered from familial obligation, now that he was  _ awake  _ and aware, he had begun to scrutinize every single behavior he’d learned, trying to parse what it all meant and where it had first stemmed from. He was obsessed with the whys and the hows, and the more holes he poked in his upbringing, the more he found that the entire foundation was shaky and swaying. It was alarming because it left Draco with nothing. He felt like he was building a house from scratch and didn’t know a damn thing about where to even begin. 

“Last time I checked, the pitch was open to all, Potter.” Draco winced at the disdain in his tone. He was discovering that knowing something was wrong and actually  _ doing _ something about it were two entirely different things. One had to constantly challenge their own thoughts, and it was exhausting. It was easier to revert to old patterns, although it was only easy for a split second. The aftermath of failing to change only made Draco feel indescribably worse. Everyone expected him to be exactly as he was before the war, and he would be damned if he was going to give them the satisfaction.  

Harry rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked as fatigued as Draco felt.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s an odd time of night to be out here, is all.”

“Yes, well… I could say the same to you, couldn’t I?” Draco tried to say it in a less challenging way, but he wasn’t entirely successful. Nevertheless, Harry’s posture relaxed a little, and he nodded in agreement.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep sometimes. It’s always deserted so I can kind of just… I dunno. Relax and fly until I’ve calmed down a bit. It’s peaceful, you know?”

“Sorry to intrude on the Saviour’s peace then.” So much for being civil.

Harry snorted and shook his head.

“Why is it always like this with you? You can’t just talk to me like a normal person. Have to get your pants in a twist right away. It must take a lot of energy to be in such a foul mood all the time,” Harry muttered as he strode past Draco and headed back toward the castle. Draco sighed mournfully, half of him struck with the desire to take it back, to explain that he was in a foul mood because he was so very tired. Tired of not sleeping and tired of the fact that the sleep he  _ did _ get was plagued by horrific images of all the traumas of the past couple years. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even turn around as Potter stopped to call over his shoulder, “And you know what the worst part is? After everything we’ve been through… I thought you’d be different.”

_ I am. I really am. I just don’t know what to do.  _

Draco didn’t give voice to the words. He only clutched his broomstick, dutifully waiting until Potter had receded into the distance to head back to the Slytherin dorm. Suddenly, flying didn’t seem so appealing anymore. As he trudged toward the castle, the sting of his former rival’s words were like welts across his pale skin.

 

***

Draco didn’t know how to talk to Harry. Things  _ were _ different now. He knew that, but they’d spent so many years as bitter rivals, and even if Draco didn’t want that anymore, even if he hadn’t wanted that for longer than he cared to admit, walking back from that precedent seemed like an insurmountable task. How did he go about it? What could he say? The thought of apologizing was so mortifying. It went against everything Draco had been taught, all the pride and self-righteousness that his family had instilled in him.

Draco quietly ate his breakfast, tuning out the banter of Pansy, Blaise, and the rest of the Slytherin table. He gazed across the Great Hall, his eyes locating Potter where he sat with Granger and Weasley, same as always. He looked happy, chatting and laughing with his friends, and Draco envied it. It was hard to remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up, waving goodbye to his friends as he left the table.

Without being sure what he meant to do, Draco shot up and began to follow him.

“Where are you rushing off to? You haven’t said two words to us this morning! You don’t want me to feel neglected, do you?” Pansy said with a mischievous smirk.

“I just – forgot something. I’ll see you in class, Pans,” Draco hurriedly explained, jogging out of the Great Hall in hopes that he could still catch up with Potter.

As he exited the doors, he saw that familiar mop of black hair about halfway down the hallway. Draco caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Harry spun around with a confused frown that only grew more befuddled when he saw who it was.

“Malfoy… what do you want?”

Draco opened his mouth only to close it again, realizing that he didn’t really know the answer to that. He wasn’t accustomed to acting on impulse. 

“Um… I just… about last night…”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a note of impatience in the question. 

“I didn’t mean to make you leave.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was better than nothing.

“Oh…” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, disappearing beneath his fringe. “Well, you sort of seemed like you wanted to be alone.”

“I did, but…” Draco faltered, and Harry tilted his head as he waited for him to gather his thoughts. “The pitch is big enough for both of us. I don’t see why we can’t share it.”

“How incredibly generous of you,” Harry responded with an eye roll.

“I was  _ trying _ to be nice, Potter. Trust you to be ungrateful. I don’t know why I even bothered,” Draco spat, crossing his arms.

“Oh yes, I should bow down to you for being so generous and allowing me to fly on the pitch. You don’t own Hogwarts, Malfoy. I don’t need your bloody permission. I have to get to class.” Harry stormed off, and Draco glared at him as he retreated.

Well, that had gone swimmingly. What did Potter expect? For Draco to grovel for forgiveness?

_ He expected you to say sorry. To tell him you were just feeling off, and it had nothing to do with him. Why is that so bloody hard for you? _

Waving his inner voice away, Draco walked off to Transfigurations, the din of the hallway rising now that everyone was pouring out of lunch and rushing off to class. He took a seat at the rear of the classroom, staring at the back of Harry’s head a few seats up. 

Draco rested his elbows on the desk and found that he couldn’t figure out why it  _ was _ so hard. Two words. Two simple words. Why couldn’t he just say them?

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

Draco chanted it like a mantra in his head, hoping somehow it would get easier if he just thought it on a loop. Sadly, it only made it worse. The longer he thought about those words, the more he realized how much he was sorry for, a bottomless well of transgressions he couldn’t begin to wade through. Draco opened his book and tried to focus on the lecture, but his eyes kept being drawn to the unruly hair on the back of that familiar head.    

 

***

 

Two nights later, Draco found himself on the pitch again, the stark blackness illuminated by a bright curtain of stars. It was a clear October night, no gloomy cloud cover to obscure the sky. The breeze was balmy and slightly warm. Overall, it was perfect flying weather. For once, excitement was overriding his nerves as he rotated the broom in his hands. 

Suddenly, Draco heard footsteps and turned his head to see Potter walking toward him. With a mixture of annoyance and anticipation, Draco had wondered if he would show. He was partly anxious to remedy their last couple of encounters, determined to be pleasant instead of a thorn in Harry’s side, to prove he had changed. However, he also stubbornly wanted Harry to stay out of his way so he could have a quiet flying session without prying eyes. The last thing he needed was for Harry to witness Draco making beginner mishaps during his rickety return to flight. Granted, he was sure Harry wouldn’t mock him for it. He’d probably be maddeningly nice about it, which would only serve to further incense Draco, making him feel like a thing to be pitied.

“I was wondering if you’d show,” Harry said with a hesitant smile as he approached. “I brought something just in case.”

Harry raised his closed fist and opened it to reveal a dormant Snitch resting in his palm.

“I thought you might want a go of it since we’re both out here at the same time.”

“Sure you want to willingly humiliate yourself, Potter?” Draco hoped Harry couldn’t see through his false bravado as he lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes.

“That sounds like a challenge, Malfoy. Think you can live up to it? You’ve always been a lot of talk, not a lot of action.” Harry smirked playfully, and Draco’s heart thumped with delight. Memories of gleeful Quidditch games, racing after the tiny golden ball and feeling nearly invincible, rushed across Draco’s mind. He couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting, but as much as he hated to admit it, Harry was a formidable opponent. He was fast and agile, and Draco’s legs felt unsteady even just  _ thinking _ about flying with him right now. Was he ready to go chasing after the Snitch?

“Well then… let’s cease the blathering and get to it, shall we?” Backing down would look weak right now. Above all, Malfoys weren’t weak. 

Harry grinned and released the ball, its swift wings coming to life, the golden twinkle of it barely visible in the dark night. In a flash, Harry was soaring into the sky after it, leaving Draco to fret on the ground. 

He took a deep breath and pushed off the grass. As he rose into the air, he wobbled a bit, struggling to get his balance. But he stayed hovering at a modest speed until he got control of the broom, only accelerating when he felt safe enough to do so. 

“You’re going to lose if you don’t get up here, Malfoy!” Harry shouted behind him. Draco was gaining on him now, the fluttering shape of the Snitch coming into view. It was maybe twenty feet in front of Potter. Draco flattened his body against the broomstick, streamlining his motion as he hurtled forward. He was just about level with Harry, the Snitch close enough Draco could nearly reach out and – 

Abruptly, the ball took a sharp left and disappeared from view. Draco swore under his breath and swooped down, Harry mirroring his movements. Suddenly, Harry veered right, but Draco didn’t follow him right away. He’d played against Harry enough to know better than that. Draco patiently hung back, keenly observing the sky, vigilant for any signs of movement and shiny metal. After a few seconds, he spotted it. Harry was indeed going the right way, but there was a good bit of distance between him and the Snitch. Maybe Draco could approach it from a different angle. 

Draco took off, making a tight turn around a tree on Harry’s right, emerging on the other side only to find himself several feet away from the Snitch. Harry gasped and tried to accelerate the few remaining yards, but he couldn’t make up the distance. Draco surged forward and tightly clasped his hand around the little ball, yelping triumphantly as he hovered in the air.

Harry came a little closer before settling to the left of Draco.

“Thanks for that. It was fun.” Harry turned toward him, smiling and panting, a fresh sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, and Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yeah, it was.” Draco was pleased to see he hadn’t lost his skill. Once he got going, muscle memory took over. It was as natural as walking.  

They descended to the ground and started back toward the castle, both too euphoric and spent to be anything but friendly with each other. As they parted ways to head to their respective dorms, Harry called out, “Same time tomorrow? I mean… if you can’t sleep again.”

Draco swept his tongue across his bottom lip and gave it some thought. It was harmless, right? Just a bit of flying to get out their nervous energy and tire their bodies enough to finally get some restful sleep. It didn’t mean they were friends.

“Haven’t had enough yet, Potter? Want to get your arse handed to you every night?”

“You wish.” Harry smiled and waved goodbye.

Draco headed to the Slytherin dorm, slipping back into bed as quietly as he could to avoid waking anyone else. He slept all the way through to morning, no nightmares ripping him from his tranquil slumber.

 

***

 

After that, Harry and Draco started meeting on the pitch every night. There seemed to be an unspoken pact that they wouldn’t talk about anything else, wouldn’t press each other about all their baggage. When they soared through the air, it was purely a release of tension. Nothing messy or complicated about it. Or at least, that’s how it seemed at first. 

Now, Draco was walking side-by-side with Harry and trying to ignore the curious look the other boy was giving him.

“What?” Draco asked archly, turning to face him.

“Nothing.” Harry shook his head, but a short minute later, he was back to sneaking sidelong glances.

Draco stopped and let out a groan of frustration.

“Alright, what is it? Am I smeared in mud? Or do you have an idiotic question to ask that will surely make me want to punch your horrid face? Out with it.” Draco crossed his arms and waited.

“I was just wondering how you were, but I couldn’t think of a way to ask without pissing you off. You’re not very easy to talk to.” Harry’s eyes roved around the grounds, avoiding contact with Draco.

“You were wondering how I  _ was _ ? What are we? Thirteen-year-old girls? You want to sit in a circle and talk about our feelings while we braid each other’s hair?” Draco laughed, but instantly regretted it when he saw how Harry’s face fell. He didn’t look angry with Draco. There wasn’t that flash of defiance across his green eyes that usually signified the beginning of one of their sparring matches. He just looked… defeated.

“Why do you have to make it so hard, Draco?” 

Draco’s pulse quickened. Harry’s voice was quiet, almost pleading, and Draco had never heard Harry use his first name. The concern in his tone was too genuine. It made Draco want to rebel against it, to chase it away with insults and banter. This was more vulnerability than he could handle. But on the other hand, Draco had come to understand that his instincts were shit. They were mostly based in misguided ideas and an intense desire to bury the truth, to conceal anything about himself that his father would have deemed unacceptable. It was time to try something new. Draco counted to ten in his head, the silence stretching on for long enough that Harry’s expression transformed from concern to outright worry. Just as he opened his mouth to presumably ask Draco what the hell he was doing, Draco interjected.

“I don’t know any other way.”

“Oh…” Harry bit his bottom lip, seeming to consider this for a moment. “Well, I’d like it if we could talk to each other. Doesn’t have to be about our  _ feelings _ . I just… I like flying with you out here. It seems like we get on when we do, so why can’t we be friends otherwise?”

“You… want to be my friend?” Draco tried to curb the disbelief from his question. He also tried to obliterate the inner eleven year old who was so happy to finally have Harry Potter accepting his friendship.

“I do – if you’re okay with that. I think,” Harry took a deep breath and lifted his head to meet Draco’s gaze. The emerald blaze of his eyes stole the breath from Draco’s lungs, but he squashed the sensation down. This night really was teeming with reminders of things Draco didn’t want to unpack. “We should all stick together as much as we can. It’s a terrible time to be back here. Every corner of this place is full of memories all of us are eager to forget, but we’re here together. And because of everything that happened, I think we all… we  _ know _ each other better now. Does that make sense?”

Draco nodded solemnly. Returning for another year had felt like a mistake in that first month. Harry was right. Every hallway, every staircase, every room seemed to trigger a flash of someone’s last breath or an unforgivable curse flung across the corridor. Even if he was still reluctant to confide in any of his fellow classmates, there was a comfort in their presence, a sense that they were all partners in a twisted aftermath, victims of a shared harrowing experience. No one else could understand each other as much as this small group could. It was a visceral thing one could just feel hanging in the air.  

There was an inkling of willful contention still lurking within Draco, bubbling up with a rebuke to Harry’s offer. But Draco was lonely, and the truth of the matter was that these flying sessions with Harry made him feel less alone. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits tonight, alienating him like he always did.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here if you do. Or if you just want to talk about anything at all. Doesn’t matter what, okay?” The sincerity in Harry’s eyes made Draco avert his gaze once again, but he nodded curtly. Giving any more of a response was too difficult to contemplate. It was like a hefty block of cement had planted itself on Draco’s tongue. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” 

Harry’s lips quirked up at the mention of his first name, but he didn’t comment on it. Draco watched Harry walk away in the opposite direction, casting a secret smile at the other boy when he was sure there was no longer any chance of Harry seeing it.

 

***

 

Over the next few nights, Draco and Harry talked about this and that, always keeping it to safe subjects: Quidditch, how stressed they were about mid-terms, or speculating what odd color combination Luna’s hair would be next. She’d taken to changing it on a weekly basis according on mood. Last week was a glittery, celestial combination of deep teal and violet, and the week before that had been a fiery mixture of magenta and burnt orange.

Sometimes they would just sit in companionable silence, stargazing and listening to the surrounding sounds of nature. Those times were the most dangerous. They allowed Draco’s desires to wander into territory he’d never been comfortable accepting. It wasn’t just Draco’s demeanor and differing ideas that his father hadn’t approved of as he’d grown up. There was also the not-so-small matter of his budding sexuality. With Lucius in Azkaban, his father’s influence was no longer a looming threat, and Draco realized he might have a fighting chance of truly being himself. His mother knew, and while she was careful not to mention it, Draco got the distinct feeling that she would never stoop to being combative about it in the way Lucius had. Still, it was so hard to shake the internalized shame, and Draco marveled at how supremely stupid human brains could be. He knew it was  _ okay _ , knew he didn’t need permission to feel the way he did, and yet the internal war still waged ferociously within him every time he thought about another bloke like that.

And this was to say nothing of the fact that this was  _ Potter _ he was having these feelings for. Potter who was currently sitting next to him in a situation that had undeniably romantic connotations. I mean, bloody hell, what was Potter trying to make Draco think by lying on the grass next to him and gazing up at the bloody stars in the dead quiet of night? And why did he have to be so awfully good-looking? 

After the battle of Hogwarts, everyone looked like they’d been wrung dry of every spark of life. When Draco had next seen Harry in the flesh, boarding the Hogwarts Express with health restored to his cheeks and his body properly filled out, it had stirred something deep in Draco’s belly that was hard to ignore. Harry was physically beautiful, but there was also something attractive about seeing him  _ thrive _ like that. It made Draco simultaneously envious and full of yearning. Thanks to Harry’s pesky need to befriend Draco and aid in curing his insomnia, that attraction was only growing. Another desire that was mounting was Draco’s need to talk about more than just Quidditch and Luna Lovegood’s hair.

As they lay on their backs looking up at the sky, Draco swallowed, his throat suddenly parched and his heart rate increasing as he rehearsed the words in his head. 

“I was grateful to come back here. I wasn’t sure they would let me in, all things considered. But the manor is like… a mausoleum now. There’s nothing for me there. Even though Hogwarts gives me a fair share of undesirable flashbacks, it’s nothing like that crypt of a mansion.”

Harry turned his head, but Draco continued to stare up at the sky, too afraid to see what was written in Harry’s expressive eyes. At last, Harry resumed looking up instead of watching him, and Draco sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry. It makes sense though. Being a prisoner in your own home is… well, it can’t really feel like home again after that,” Harry quietly responded. Draco hazarded a peripheral glance at Harry’s face. The moonlight made him look even more alluring, so soft and sweet it made Draco’s heart ache.

“It’s not even just that. It’s…” Draco trailed off, his mind flooded with images of his father berating him when he found out about Draco’s proclivities, and his mother alone and depressed in the immense house after his father had been carted back to Azkaban, the gloom of the interior dulling to a persistent grey that didn’t contain even an iota of its former grandeur. “Everything.”

They both fell into silence once again, the calls of a few birds in the distance and the whistle of the wind the only sounds around them.

“Draco?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you punch me if I tried to hug you right now?”

Draco erupted into peals of laughter, the sound surprising them both.

“I’ll try not to, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I’ll consider myself warned. I can take a punch,” Harry chuckled with a shrug. He scooted closer and folded his arms around Draco. It was warm and safe, his grip an anchoring comfort that made Draco flush, his breath catching in his chest. Draco relaxed into the embrace, slowly rotating his body until he could properly return the hug, his slender arms wrapping around Harry’s upper back. Draco rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder and let out a pleased hum. Harry’s answering noise of contentment made Draco’s cock take note, and it was at that moment that he realized what an incredibly suggestive position they were in. Why couldn’t Potter have stood up to hug him?! They were literally lying on the ground in each other’s arms, the full length of their bodies pressed up against each other. And dear sweet fucking Merlin, what if his cock was getting hard enough for Harry to feel it?! Fast as a lightning strike, Draco separated from Harry and ran his palms down his sides as though to erase the mark Harry’s contact had left on him.

“When you said hug, I didn’t know you meant ‘latch on for dear life.’ Blimey, Potter.” 

“Whatever, Malfoy. You were clearly enjoying it. Might do you some good to get a hug once in a while. Loosen that stick up your arse.” Harry rolled his eyes and sat up, linking his arms around his knees.

“Oh, I’m Malfoy now? Aren’t you charming when someone doesn’t immediately melt into your arms.” Panic seized Draco as he worried the bite in his tone wasn’t doing anything to conceal how he actually felt.

“You just called me Potter! And yes, you’re  _ Malfoy _ when you’re being a complete and utter git, which you are right now. For what it’s worth, you  _ did _ melt into my arms. Don’t worry though. I won’t tell anyone that you were nice for a whole two minutes. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your spotless reputation for being a total prat twenty-four hours a day.” Harry snorted derisively and stood up. “It’s late. We should get to bed.”

Harry stormed off without another word, and Draco froze, wanting so badly to call him back there, to say he didn’t mean anything he’d said. Instead, he just watched him walk away, Draco’s body so very frigid without Harry’s warmth enveloping him.

 

***

 

The next day, Draco was furiously scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, struggling to keep up with McGonagall’s instructions when a paper crane fluttered its way over to his desk. Draco looked around and spotted Harry a couple desks over. Harry waved to let him know he was indeed the one who had sent the crane, and Draco put down his quill to unfold it.

_ Sorry I was cross last night. I know you’re not a touchy-feely kind of person. You warned me, but I did it anyway. It’s my own fault. Friends still? See you on the pitch tonight? _

Draco smiled and wrote a response below Harry’s messy writing.

_ Just can’t get enough of me, can you, Potter? _

He folded up the crane and waited for McGonagall to turn her back before sending it sailing over to Harry. He watched Harry opening it, grinning when he let out a small laugh. Harry wrote something down and sent the crane back to Draco, annoying a Hufflepuff girl seated between them whose name Draco had never cared to learn. The girl glared at Draco, but he scowled right back until she returned to her parchment. 

_ It seems so. Clearly I need my head examined. _

Draco chuckled under his breath and started to write a response.

“Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter!”

Draco’s head shot up at the sound of McGonagall’s scolding voice.

“While I’m sure that whatever messages are on that crane are of the most vital importance,” She drawled sarcastically, slipping her glasses down the bridge of her nose, “I wonder if you might cease the note passing long enough for those students who actually care about the subject to absorb my teachings? Honestly, you’re behaving like first years.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

She nodded curtly and resumed her lecture. Draco and Harry exchanged small smiles. Draco caught the Hufflepuff girl’s eye as he turned back. She was smiling victoriously. Draco couldn’t resist the urge to flip her two fingers.

 

***

 

While Draco couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part, Harry seemed nervous when they met that night. After they’d flown around for a half hour or so, doing figure eights high in the air and swooping around the tops of the trees, they leaned against the trunk of a large tree and chatted as usual. Only this time, Harry seemed to be stammering and tripping over his words, second-guessing everything he said as though worried he might offend Draco.

“Are you having a fit of some sort, Harry?” Draco elected to use his first name in hopes that it would put the other boy at ease.

Harry laughed nervously and leaned his head against the tree.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Harry tilted his head and fixed him with an intense expression as though he were searching for clues of some sort in Draco’s face. “It’s nothing.”

“Someone once told me I could talk to him about anything I wanted. I would like to let him know that I extend the same courtesy.” Draco tried for a reassuring smile, and Harry seemed to soften a bit.

“While I appreciate that, I would like to remind him that I also said he didn’t  _ have _ to talk about anything he didn’t want to.” Harry stared off into the distance, and Draco frowned. He was curious what Harry meant, but he didn’t want to press him. Harry never prodded Draco about anything, and he greatly appreciated that. He wasn’t sure they would have been able to fall into this odd friendship if Harry hadn’t been patient like that.  

“Fair enough.” Maybe not being demanding would work on Harry in the same way. Merlin knew Harry was hardly skilled in the art of shutting up. He’d probably cave pretty easily. 

A couple of minutes went by, neither of them speaking, until at last Harry broke the silence.

“Um… Draco, I…” Harry’s brow knit together as he chewed on his bottom lip, spearing Draco with a strange look he couldn’t quite decipher.

“What?” Draco gently queried, eyes darting up and down Harry’s body. Salazar, he looked so good. A few loose waves of hair had fallen halfway over his eyes, and the precise line of his collarbone was peeking out from underneath the v-neck of his jumper. Draco followed the movement of Harry’s teeth as they worried the skin of his full lips. He tried to ignore how much he wanted to lick across the curve of that mouth.

“Fuck it,” Harry muttered before practically lunging at Draco. Their lips met, but it was as though Harry hadn’t thought as far as  _ how _ he wanted to kiss Draco. They just sort of lingered on top of Draco’s, smashed together in a way that wasn’t all that inviting. Nevertheless, Draco’s skin tingled and he felt a blush creeping up his neck at the contact. Potter had  _ kissed _ him. Was  _ still _ kissing him. Clumsily, yes, but it was snogging all the same.

_ I have to do everything myself, don’t I? _ Draco thought as he sank his fingers into the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, his lips shifting to slide against Harry’s, encouraging him to move. Draco felt the tension leave Harry’s body as he sagged against him, his lips placing soft, tentative kisses against Draco’s own. It was better now.  _ Much _ better. Draco allowed his other hand to grip Harry’s shoulder, and Harry wrapped his arms around the middle of Draco’s back, his palms stroking up and down, sending shivers of pleasure through him.

Harry’s tongue hesitantly darted out to lick across Draco’s lips, and Draco’s mouth automatically opened, intent on chasing more of Harry’s warmth and tenderness. When their tongues met, Harry moaned, and Draco wanted to devour that sound, bottle it up and drink from it at will. By this point, Harry had crawled into Draco’s lap, straddling him and making little thrusts that brought Draco’s cock to attention almost immediately. Harry leaned forward, and Draco tumbled to the ground, letting out a groan of discomfort as his back met the earth. The groan quickly changed into one of hunger as Harry’s hands slid underneath Draco’s jumper, skating across the expanse of soft skin on his stomach. His cock swelled in his trousers, the teasing proximity of Harry’s hands making him whimper. Harry deepened the kiss, his tongue twirling against Draco’s in a way that made his arousal unbearable. 

All of his kisses before this had been fumbling pubescent attempts at heterosexuality with girls who enjoyed it far more than Draco did. All he could think during those moments was  _ when will this be over?  _ But this… this was like the adrenaline of flying laced with the surge of joy he felt when waking up on a sparkling, white Christmas morning, the entire world full of beauty and hope. He felt Harry’s touch in every single nerve-ending, something deep inside him writhing and coiling, building into a fever pitch until he felt like he might explode. Fuck… maybe he  _ would _ . Maybe he should stop grinding against Harry lest he – One of Harry’s hands dipped lower, gliding over Draco’s navel and past the waistband of his trousers, playing with the downy hair there. Draco’s eyes went wide. Was this really happening? Maybe he was asleep right now. Had his nightmares transformed into weird sex dreams about Harry? The kind he completely refused to admit he thought about during the day?

Harry’s kisses trailed down his chin and neck, and Draco couldn’t think anymore. He could only moan and stretch into the contact, his back arching in a way that inadvertently slid Harry’s hand further down, his fingers slipping past Draco’s pants and brushing against the tip of his cock.

“Harry,” Draco gasped, clutching him tighter. No one had ever touched his cock. Due to the fact that kissing girls absolutely disgusted him, he hadn’t gone any further than that. And well… the war didn’t exactly present any exemplary opportunities for Draco to find boys to fool around with. 

“Merlin, you feel so good, Draco. Your skin is so… Can I… Can I touch you?” Harry was breathless, his words like pleading whines in Draco’s ear as his fingertips grazed the head of his cock again, making it extremely plain what he was asking for.

“Mmpph.” Draco tried to form actual words, but all that came out was a nonsensical slur of letters.

Harry pulled back, his brilliant green eyes meeting Draco’s for the first time since this had all started. Draco felt his own expression melting into awe, his whole body pulsing with heat, Harry’s eyes slicing right through him. Fuck… he didn’t know if he could handle Harry’s hand around him. He didn’t want to come in two strokes like an idiot, yet he also didn’t want to waste this unexpected gift. 

“Draco? Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” Harry panted, his hand rising a couple inches, releasing the tantalizing pressure on Draco’s cock. Draco whimpered, eager to push Harry’s hand back down.

“N-no, don’t stop. Please. I want you to.” Draco had found his voice at last. It sounded hoarse and full of passion in an unfamiliar way. But however odd it sounded to Draco, Harry clearly delighted in it, a little moan escaping his lips as he smiled down at him. 

“Okay,” Harry whispered. “I’m just going to move to make this a little easier, yeah?”

Draco gave a jerky nod, and Harry came to rest beside him, curling around Draco’s right side. Though the break in contact was short, it gave Draco enough time to start catastrophizing about how this would go. It must have been written across his face because Harry clasped his chin, tilting Draco’s head toward him and planting a soothing kiss on his mouth.

“Just tell me if you want me stop. Or if I do something wrong?” 

Draco nodded again. Apparently, Harry’s touch had reduced his communication skills to inarticulate begging and spastic nods. Harry began nibbling at Draco’s neck as he unfastened his trousers, and his worries faded away yet again, replaced by the addictive sensation of Harry’s warm tongue lapping at his sensitive skin. When Harry reached into Draco’s pants and grasped his cock, it was no longer a light skating of fingertips. He wrapped his hand around Draco’s erection, and the high keening sound Draco let out was so utterly foreign. He sounded desperate and undignified, all restraint going out the window as he bucked into Harry’s hand. 

“Merlin, the sounds you make… I can’t wait to hear you come,” Harry whispered, licking along the shell of Draco’s ear.

“Bloody hell, Harry. When did you get so… so…” Draco’s moans swallowed the rest of his sentence as Harry began stroking him in earnest, slow and firm.

Harry chuckled and nipped at Draco’s earlobe, giving his cock a squeeze before resuming his strokes, his thumb sliding over the slit on the upstroke. 

“I don’t know… when did  _ you _ ?” Harry teased, claiming Draco’s mouth again. Draco was grateful that the embarrassing noises he suddenly seemed to have no control over were muffled by Harry’s mouth.

He felt the heat building, arousal coursing through him, his balls drawing up tight, and he knew he was close. Everything felt so unbelievably good, his whole body warm from the inside out. He didn’t want it to end but knew there was nothing he could do. Was he supposed to warn Harry? It was only polite, right? He should probably – 

Draco broke their kiss, shuddering and gasping as he came all over Harry’s hand. Harry stroked him through it, giving his now oversensitive cock one last parting squeeze. Harry rested his sticky hand in the mess on Draco’s stomach, looking down at him in a way that would have made Draco blush if he weren’t already flushed from the best orgasm of his life. Considering all he’d experienced up to now was furtive wankings in the shower by himself, perhaps that wasn’t saying much. But to Draco, it felt like the foundation of his whole world was shaken. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you look so fucking sexy,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“Oh…” Draco laughed softly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“That’s a very Draco Malfoy compliment.”

“Well, that’s very fitting seeing as how I  _ am _ Draco Malfoy.” He smiled and looked down at Harry’s neglected erection, pressing hard and insistent against his jeans. “Um… do you…”

“Oh! Sorry.” Harry waved two fingers across Draco’s stomach, swiping the mess away before doing the same to his hand.

“Wandless?!”

Harry shrugged casually, and Draco just shook his head. 

“That um… wasn’t what I was about to ask though…”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrows rose hopefully. Draco figured Harry had a pretty good idea of what he was about to say, but it was still mortifying to contemplate  _ actually _ saying it. He took a couple breaths and closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to… return the favor?”

“Only if you want to. Don’t feel like you have to, you know?” 

Draco opened his eyes and tried for a resolute stare.

“I want to.”

“Okay,” Harry replied with breathless anticipation, lying on his back, eyes watching Draco like a hawk as he lifted up Harry’s jumper. Draco felt a pang of desire as he looked at Harry’s slender stomach, the muscles contracting with the rise and fall of Harry’s shallow breaths. He ran his hand over the bulge in Harry’s jeans, smiling when he twitched and groaned just from that light touch. As he unbuttoned them and pulled down the zipper, Draco sucked in an uneasy breath. He didn’t want to let on that he was half terrified of this, scared to do it wrong or lose his nerve halfway through. Or worse, what if he didn’t even like it? 

Draco swept his hand across Harry’s stomach, the skin so much softer than he imagined it would be, and kept creeping lower and lower until his fingers met Harry’s cock. They gasped in unison, and Draco’s eyes flitted over to Harry’s. Harry looked amazing: eyes half-lidded with desire, his reddened lips slightly parted, his wavy hair fanned out on the ground. It was at that moment that Draco knew there was no way he wouldn’t enjoy this. Draco laid on his side, mimicking Harry’s earlier pose, and rested his head on Harry’s chest, watching as he released Harry’s cock from the confinement of his pants. Draco let out a long, slow breath as he looked down at the swollen length, the tip red and leaking. Fuck. He really wasn’t in danger of not liking this. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to be enthralled with every single second of it. As he properly took Harry in hand, he lamented not having watched Harry’s hand on his cock. It had all been such a blur of new sensation. He hadn’t been capable of thinking about documenting any part of the experience. He’d been too busy marveling over the fact that it was happening at all.

“Sorry I’m being so slow about it,” Draco whispered, swiping his finger through the pearly drops gathered on the head of Harry’s cock.

“S’okay,” Harry said. “It’s more than okay, actually.”

Draco lifted his head and kissed Harry, grateful to have Harry’s eager tongue exploring his mouth once again. He began to stroke up and down Harry’s length, trying to replicate the pressure and pace he liked best when he was touching himself. Harry kept making encouraging little grunts and moans into Draco’s mouth, his grip in Draco’s hair tightening until it was nearly painful. Although he was still insecure about his abilities, the fact that Harry was pretty clearly happy right now assuaged his doubts. 

Harry broke the kiss, his eyes shuttering closed as he leaned his head back, mouth open and moaning freely. Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen anything hotter in his entire life. He worked Harry’s cock faster, peppering his neck with kisses, desperate to make him come. A few seconds later, Harry’s cock seemed to grow even harder in Draco’s palm, his whole body drawing tight like the strings of a violin, and suddenly there was a familiar warm wetness coating Draco’s fingers. Harry gasped his name, and the sound make Draco’s cock rise once again. The heady pleasure of hearing Harry call out his name like that… so lustful and needy… it was more incredible than Draco could have anticipated.

They lay still for a minute, Harry’s breath slowing down as he relaxed from the bliss of his orgasm. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so calm and carefree. No impending storm of anxieties swirling in to crush him. Harry waved his hand to clean them both and buttoned his jeans.

“Have you ever done that before?” As soon as Draco asked, he regretted it. He didn’t really want to know, didn’t want to imagine someone else with their hand on Harry’s cock. Harry twitched as if woken from a deep reverie.

“Once… but it was awful and awkward. Not like this. This was…” Harry turned to smile at Draco but didn’t finish his thought. He didn’t really have to.

“Yeah, it was,” Draco agreed, smiling back and lazily carding a hand through Harry’s hair. Abruptly, an unwelcome fear crept into Draco’s mind, smothering his peace.  _ Great. That lasted all of two minutes. _ “Can you… not tell anyone about this? Specifically the more  _ intimate _ details?” 

Although he didn’t particularly care if people knew he and Harry were closer now, he wasn’t ready for gossip about handjobs on the Quidditch pitch to circulate through the Hogwarts student body.  

“I won’t.” Harry placed a reassuring hand on his arm, his eyes broadcasting a sincerity that Draco trusted. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Some things should just be for us.”

Draco nodded and smiled, the kindness of Harry’s words soothing him. He fiddled with his hands in his lap, unsure of what to say next.

“Want to stay out here a little longer?” Harry softly asked, folding his arms around Draco’s middle.

“Yeah… I’d like that.” Draco snuggled against him, sated and warm in Harry’s arms. He silenced the rising tide of voices in his head. Navigating this thing between them was going to be difficult. Of that he was sure, but all of those worries could wait until tomorrow. Right now, everything was perfect and beautiful, and Draco wasn’t about to let anything ruin it. 


End file.
